


was there a lifetime waiting for us? (in a world where i was yours)

by snowandfirestories



Series: Malcolm and the Mage [6]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: 1980s british folk punk bands, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, I did way too much research for this, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Watford Sixth Year, i think this is the first non-smut malmage, magical politics, this was supposed to be a crack pairing but i caught feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowandfirestories/pseuds/snowandfirestories
Summary: Davy and Malcolm don't like each other and everyone knows it, but can a Magic Words project and a dangerous quest bring them together at last?Or: How Malcolm and the Mage become less asshole-ish and get together in the process
Relationships: Lucy Salisbury/Natasha Grimm-Pitch/Malcolm Grimm/The Mage, Malcolm Grimm/Natasha Grimm-Pitch, Malcolm Grimm/The Mage, Natasha Grimm-Pitch/Lucy Salisbury
Series: Malcolm and the Mage [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027491
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	was there a lifetime waiting for us? (in a world where i was yours)

**Davy**

The wooded path to Watford seems to become further from the main road every year, almost as if to personally spite me. I have no doubt that they’d do it too, if only to spit me. I’m sure they would have some built in excuse for it, but I’d know. They’d say _‘David, it is important that we keep the magical community separate from the Normals’._

Bullshit. The whole system of their magic is dependent on Normals to survive, but most mages still have the gall to think that we are better than them.

Eventually the iron gates of Watford approach, and once the gate is able to ascertain that I’m a mage, it creaks open to let me pass. I then quickly make my way to Henleigh House, where I have taken up residence for most of the past 4 years. 

Henleigh House is nice and all, but it’s no more of a house than my parent’s house is. It’s a house in name only, there are no warm and fuzzy feelings attached to it. I don’t do warm and fuzzy feelings. My roommate, Nicodemus Petty, doesn’t either, I suspect that’s why the crucible matched us together. We aren’t friends (I also don’t do friends, only allies), but I can tolerate his presence more than the rest of the elitists that I have classes with. 

My few belongings that I actually bother to tote to the school are unpacked quickly, and I find that I have ample time to complete the political science summer worksheet that I had put off. None of the content is particularly challenging, I could probably teach this class and do better than whatever pompous snob they found to replace Mr. Worell, but I didn’t feel like putting up with writing about the merits behind whatever racist or classist policies they’ve decided to brainwash us with. I figure that I might as well just write what the teacher wants to hear for this essay, because I don’t know his grading policies and I don’t necessarily want to start off the year with a zero.

As I’m struggling to formulate some response to the prompt, I hear the door open and I can’t help but jump in my chair a bit. Of course, it’s just Nicodemus, but constant vigilance has become my second nature over the course of the summer. 

“Hey.” he says, acknowledging me as he makes his way to his bed. He instantly plops down onto the fresh bedding. 

“Hello.” I nod. Then, after a beat I remember that I have to seem like a decent person if I want to remain in his good books, and that sadly means feigning interest in whatever inconsequential details he deems important. 

“How was your summer?” I ask, hoping that he doesn’t intend to extend the conversation very much more past a polite answer.

“ ‘Bout the same as any, yeah?” He answers, and for a second I think that’s the end of it, until he continues on. “ I worked at an ice cream parlor for a few weeks. I know, it doesn’t seem like my thing, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a bit o’ extra cash. But it didn’t last for very long.”

I can sense that he wants to keep talking, but needs a social buffer to break up his story, so I oblige.

“Why didn’t it last?”I ask, begrudgingly. 

“I just wasn’t suited for it, I kept forgetting how to make the specialty sundaes and to change out the milk in the machine. But if we’re being honest, I think it’s actually because I scared the kids.” he reveals, “ ‘S okay though, it gave me more time to go see some shows with Fi”

“What shows did you see?” I inquire. Nicodemus’s music taste is fairly solid,so I hope that this prompt can switch the conversation to something actually interesting.

“We saw a bunch of local punk bands, but The Pogues were my favorites. They’ve got a really unique sound. I think they’re really onto something.”

“I’ve heard a bit about them, I really wanted to go to their show in London, but I was far too busy with all the protests. I’m glad you found time to get to one though.”

It may have been a little bit of a dig, but any actual self respecting punk would have been in the frontlines, standing in solidarity with the coal miners that the conservatives fucked over.

“Yeah, my mum wouldn’t let me get involved in all that. She almost wouldn’t even let me go to the show. She made Ebb tag along to make sure we didn’t get up to any mischief.”

“Ah, what a shame. Well, I suppose that I was there enough for the both of us. Once the protests started, I took a train to the city and couchsurfed with people I met there, I didn’t come back home until a few days ago, and I only did that so that I could grab my school supplies. My mum thought that I was at a summer linguistics program at the University”

“Yeah, speaking of school stuff, I think mine might’ve gotten mixed up with Ebb’s. So I’m gonna go try to find her.” He says. He quickly scrambles to grab a small bag and rushes out of the door.

I turn back to my desk and continue to stew over the essay questions until dark. When Nicodemus returns, he doesn’t attempt to make any more conversation, and we quietly fade into our dull nightly routine.

**Author's Note:**

> ughhhh I hate Davy in this chapter. He'll get better though, dw! 
> 
> As always, thanks to the Malmage insta gc for keeping me sane and everything you do, y'all are the best.
> 
> Follow me on Insta: @snowandfirestories for my Snowbaz social media Avatar AU (or whatever AU i'm on when you're reading this)
> 
> Also: the Pogues are a real band, they played celtic-punk/folk-punk and their music has a really cool sound! Check them out!


End file.
